


The Light Chronicles Book 1: The Stolen Goddess

by Revenge_Hurts



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-16 14:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11830887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revenge_Hurts/pseuds/Revenge_Hurts
Summary: When a goddess of old, Freya, is kidnapped from her palace, the gods declare war on whoever dared take her. The blame is placed on young Malum, the only demigod child of the recently escaped god Loki who was known for his tricks and mischievous, and sometimes cruel, nature. After an attack on his home, Malum sets out to clear his good name.





	1. I Become The First Human Bomb

The first time it happened I was fourteen years old. I didn't know it at the time, but what was happening to me was something that would change my life forever. It all really began when I made some jerks explode. You heard me right, explode. I guess I should start at the beginning, my name is Malum Moore and this is my story.

 

It was always been just me and my mom even since I can remember. My dad was never in the picture, he died when I was only a baby. Oh sure, my mom told me stories about him growing up, but I’ve never had the chance to meet the man. Everyone always pities me when they hear about him and give me their condolences and promises that “they’re here for me” if I ever want to talk. The truth is, though, that I don't really think about him that often. To me he's just a story, I don't know what he looks like or even his name. My mom was always very creative in her descriptions of him, but never actually gave me a straight answer about what he was like. I've just never really had much to miss I suppose. It's me and my mom against the world, and that's the way I like it. 

 

I've never had a lot of friends either, but it doesn't really bother me. I never thought I would really need anyone other than my mom. Until recently I had no reason to think anything would ever happen to her, and so I never minded that, once again, it was just me and her. I always thought the reason I couldn't connect with other kids was because they were just immature and I was too smart for them. I couldn't have been further from the truth.

 

I can't remember when exactly it began, but I know that is was around my twelfth birthday when I finally noticed it. I had always had a little trouble with bullies, I never could keep my mouth shut around them. My teachers all said I was troublesome and looked for fights. My mom said I was just impulsive and needed to learn to control myself better. But the truth was, I didn't get into fights because of my short temper - well it may have played a small part - or because I went looking for it. The main reason was, I simply couldn't stand back and watch others get hurt. I know a lot of you will make fun of me for it, _oh he's such a little goody-two-shoes_ , but it's the truth. Watching others gang up on someone just for being different or strange made me want to strangle someone - usually the bully.

 

So when I was walking home, for the first time since spring break, and saw a group of older kids pushing around one of the little ones, I immediately stepped in. Part of it may have been that I used to be picked on - before I proved that I could give as good as I got - but it was mostly the fact that my mom had always raised me with a strong sense of right and wrong, and I knew that what they were doing was wrong. 

 

A little boy no older than seven was being thrown around by three kids, all boys, who were at least twice his age. I stepped in front of the boy and blocked the shove that was aimed at him. The older kids all stopped at looked at me incredulously. The biggest one, whom I recognized as Dylan Smith, the class bully, stepped forward.

 

“And just what do you think you’re doing Moore?”

 

“Leave him alone, Dylan.” I growled, “he hasn't done anything.” 

 

“Aww, come on we were just having a little fun” he laughed. “Ain't that right James?”

 

The boy, now identified as James, stuttered back a reply. “Ya, ju-just a game, you know.” He was shaking and obviously terrified of Dylan and his cronies. I felt a hot anger rise in me as I took in his black eye and split lip, and all the books and papers scattered on the ground. I clenched my fists to stop myself from doing something I'd regret. Count to ten my mom always said. 1. . . 2 . . . 3. . .

 

“Aww is little Malum scared?” Dylan's voice interrupted my thoughts. “Don't worry we won't hurt you. . . much. Just run along now and we'll forget this whole thing ever happened. I'm sure mommy’s just waiting for you at the door. Or maybe not, I hear she's very popular with the men these days.” He started laughing uproariously, soon followed by his two goons. 

 

And just like that something inside me snapped. It was one thing to insult me, but it was no one gets away with talking about my mom like that. Without thinking I threw out my hands, palms facing Dylan and his gang, and screamed. What happened next I was completely unprepared for. I felt something within me rise up and suddenly all three boys were thrown at least ten feet back before they hit the hard earth beneath them. It was as if they were caught in an explosion. My first thought was _great, if I already wasn't enough of a freak, now I'm a human bomb_. 

 

I stumbled back from the scene as Dylan and his friends scrambled up, trembling. 

 

“Yo-you’ll pay for that Moore!” He threatened weakly, his voice quavering.

 

I opened my mouth to speak, to apologize, anything to get me out of this mess but nothing came out. I closed it and tried again, but still no words were spoken. What was I supposed to say, how was I supposed to explain what happened when I didn't even know myself? I took a step forward, to do what I don't know, try to articulate what my words couldn't I suppose, but the three quickly backed up stumbling over themselves. 

 

“St-stay away from us,” one of the goons yelled. His face was white with terror and his voice clearly shook as he spoke. With that, they all turned tail and ran. I stood, frozen in place, still not really comprehending what had just taken place. Suddenly I remembered why I was there in the first place and quickly spun around looking for the little boy who Dylan was bullying.

 

“James?” I called when I didn't see anyone, “James!” However only silence greeted me and I realized he must have run off after my little performance with Dylan and his gang. I had always preferred solitude to large crowds, but alone with these new, _powers_ I suppose would be the only thing to call it, for once I wasn't sure if being alone was a good thing.   
  



	2. We Seriously Need a Cleaning Lady

I raced home, both to make sure my mom was okay and nothing completely insane had happened to her as it did to me, and to get some reassurance that I wasn't going crazy. I needed some semblance of normalcy in my life at that point - I needed to know I wasn't alone.

 

My feet pounded on the concrete as I tried to flee from my problems, from the things that were happening to me that I couldn't control. Darting through the crowded streets of New York city, the sluggish heat making everyone crawl through their day, I tried not to think about what I had done. Instead, I focused on my mom and all the chores she was sure to have to wait for me when I returned to our little apartment. An old, worn down little two bedroom tucked away above a French bakery that sold the best eclairs you ever tasted. It was small, but it was cozy, welcoming, warm. . . it was home. Since it only had so many rooms: the kitchen, bathroom, living room, and two bedrooms, it was always slightly cramped and we didn't really have much privacy. _Personal space_ , I once joked with a friend, _what's that?_

 

To some, it might have seemed like torture, or like living in a dump, and admittedly when we first bought the place - it was. But, we cleaned it up and made it our own, and now, to me at least, it's just as nice as any of those fancy mansions you see in the movies.

 

I zipped up the stairs to our apartment, waving to Mrs. Durand, the lady who owned the bakery, as I went. She's an older woman with a kind smile who makes you want to tell her all your secrets, but she'll give away the day-old pastries to all the kids who come around after her shift ends and tell them stories about all the far off places she's seen from when she went travelling before she moved to America. She makes everyone call her Isabelle or Aunt Isabelle and likes to pretend she's younger than she is, but no one has the heart to call her out on it when she's done so much for everyone in our little community.

 

Bursting through the door, I accidentally slam it shut behind me from the force I had flung myself into the house with. Internally I cringed at the noise, knowing that if mom was anywhere in the house she would have heard it and been on me in a second, much like a lion devouring its prey. Not that I think my mom's a bloodthirsty beast or anything, it's just that she would end up giving me another lecture about rules and manners - BORING - and might even take away my dessert as this was most definitely not my first offense. My mom always made me her famous double chocolate, chocolate cake on special occasions like this, so that was something I was not psyched about. Even as improbable as it seemed, I hoped that she hadn't heard my little entrance.

 

However, after a few seconds of silence, I knew something was up. My mom had incredible hearing, especially with me - she was like a bat, so when nothing happened I started to get worried. I stopped and listened for any sign of her, thinking maybe she was just out. It was eerily silent, like the kind of silence in horror movies right before the killer pops out. On that cheerful note, I started scanning the house looking for anything that might tell me where she was, as it was very unlikely she just popped out for some milk right when I was supposed to be getting home.

 

Nothing looked out of the ordinary until I got to my mom’s room. The place was  _ trashed _ . I don’t just mean messy, I mean the bed sheets were torn, the nightstand was knocked over, even the little table lamp we bought from a garage sale across town was shattered; the pieces of glass and ceramic littered across the floor. 

 

It looked like some wild animal had gotten loose. A cold feeling swept through me; those claw marks on the wall I hadn’t noticed before - they were  _ big _ . I picked my way through the hazardous room over to the wall and gently ran my hand down one of the gashes. They were deep too. It had to have come from something pretty big, not something you’d see around here for sure. 

 

My anxiety was getting worse, and that funny feeling I’d had in my stomach since I walked in was flaring at the sight before me. I couldn’t move, something had happened to my mom and I didn’t know what to do. She was my whole world, as lame as that might sound, it was true and I would do anything to get her back.

 

Under all the detritus and debris I found a note written in neat, precise handwriting that read: 

 

**Bring her to the emergence by sunset**

**tomorrow, or your mother will be killed.**

**Signed,**

**The Council**

 

I had to do something, I didn’t know what, but I knew I couldn’t just sit around and wait. Someone, or someones as it seemed to be, had taken my mom. I did know one thing, however, I wasn’t going to stop until I got her back.

  
  
  
  



	3. I Am No Tactician

I gripped my hair hard enough to  _ hurt _ , but I couldn’t notice it as I paced the floor, trying to figure out what to do about what the hell just happened. My breathing quickened, and I couldn’t think straight.  _ No no no no no no. This can’t be happening.  _ My mom, the only person who ever stood by me, the last piece of my family, was gone. I began hyperventilating, and black spots danced before my eyes as I wildly looked around for anything to clue me in on what was going on.

 

My eyes landed on an old picture of me and my mom from when I was just a kid. I was around seven and she was holding me in her arms, comforting me after I had scraped my knee while riding a bike. I ran a finger along the chipping frame as I gazed at her gentle smile as she embraced me, and all I wanted was to go back. Back to when things were simple and I didn’t have to worry about kidnappers and weird powers. I felt a tear slip down my cheek and I couldn’t bother to wipe it away. 

 

I forced myself to calm down, take a deep breath, and  _ think _ . In the state I was in now, I was of no use to anybody, much less my mom. My despair quickly turned to anger. I didn’t understand anything, but I could recognize that somewhere out there my mom was being held captive by some weird group with anger issues, and I was damned if I was going to sit back and do nothing. 

 

I toyed with the idea of going to the police for a little while, but that thought quickly died. While they would take the case, there was more than enough for them her to be obligated to, they wouldn’t like it. 

 

We were from the bad part of town, and they tried to ignore that whenever possible. They might even think I had done it if they bothered to really take it seriously at all. The most probable outcome would be they chalk it up to gang activity and pretend like nothing ever happened as to not get on the bad side of one of the more powerful ones. Usually we got along fine without them, solving our own problems, however with this, there was no one else I could really go to. It was always my mom that dealt with things like this. So I was on my own.

 

There was nothing to identify who had done this, but they had known who were are, and from the looks of things weren’t opposed to violence. Who knew what they would do if they found out I contacted the authorities. They could kill her, or even hurt her to the point that she wished she was, and I wasn’t going to take that chance. Hell would freeze over before I put the only family I had left in danger. Or at least anymore than she already was.

 

_ No.  _ I forced myself away from that train of thought. She would be fine, she had to be. She was the only thing I had left, and I  _ couldn’t  _ lose her. I would do anything to get her back, but as things stood now, there wasn’t much I  _ could  _ do.

 

The only choice was to try to follow their demands. I would be careful as I watched enough TV to know that even if I did everything they said there was no guarantee I would get her back, but I had no other choice.

 

However, there was one small hitch in this plan. I had no idea what they heck they wanted me to do. I reread the note:  _ Bring her to the emergence by sunset tomorrow, or your mother will be killed. Singed, The Council.  _

 

_ Ugh,  _ I wanted to bang my head against a wall. This made NO sense! Who was  _ she _ ? Why would I have her? And what the heck was this  _ emergence  _ and why would I know where it is?

 

I tried to think back. Maybe it was something that happened recently, after all they only decided to attack today. Well, as far as I knew that was, which, I realized, wasn’t that much at all. Looking back, I didn’t know anything about what was going on or who those people were. For all I knew, they had been watching us for years, stalking us and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

 

Wow, my mom was right, I watch way too much TV. It doesn’t even make sense. There’s nothing special about us. We aren’t rich or influential, and there have been many times before this when they could have attacked and gotten one or both of us. Besides, they seemed to be holding her ransom for something, so this was probably not personal. Although what, or who, they were looking for I had no idea.

 

Thinking about it, I kept coming up to earlier today when I, well,  _ exploded,  _ for lack of better word. Maybe that was this supposed “emergence” they were talking about. The emergence of my amazing superhuman powers. . . that sounds like a bit of a stretch even to me. I mean I didn’t even know what the heck was going on and now they’re trying to, I don’t know, do _ something.  _ But that something involves threatening my family and there is no way I will let them get away with that.

 

However, contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t completely stupid nor suicidal. I knew that I should at least bring something to defend myself with, so I grabbed my old baseball bat from out of my room from way back when I was in little league. 

 

Although I wasn’t the most athletic or capable, I had my heart set on playing pro ball when I was a kid. We were never rich, but my mom still worked a few double shifts and had some late nights to pay for me to play in a real team, even one for little kids. Looking at it made me remember all the times my mom had sacrificed for me or spent late nights to pay for something I absolutely  _ had  _ to have. I would walk through hell to save my mom, and  _ no one  _ was going to stop me. 

 

My grip on the bat tightened. Having it made me feel a little bit better and gave me at least a way to fight back if things went south. And so, armed with a half-baked plan, no mysterious  _ she  _ to give back, and  _ maybe  _ the right location as to where I was supposed to meet the kidnappers, I set out to save my mom.    
  



	4. I'm Not Dressed for the Fair

I figured they weren’t expecting me until tomorrow night, so I could just camp out and get the drop on whoever showed up with my mom. However, my plan didn’t exactly work out like I had hoped. By the time got myself together and ran to the alley near my school where I, well,  _ blew up _ at Dylan and his gang, there was already, not a person per say, but definitely  _ something  _ there.

 

I stopped short and tried to figure out what was going on and where it was coming from. It looked like a blob of yellowish, golden light, suspended in midair, however, as I drew closer, it solidified into what looked like the vague outline of a person, or at least a humanoid shape.

 

It was eerie, standing in a dark alley in the middle of the night to meet with my mom’s kidnappers without their ransom, only to find a weird light that appeared to move and shift as if alive. It seemed to call out to something inside me, and I couldn’t help but move forward towards it. As I reached out to touch it, my fingers hovering but never quite making contact, I felt a pull. It felt as if someone had yanked me from inside, shoving me face-first into the light.

 

I tumbled out in a completely different location, somewhere I had never seen before. It was a small clearing in the middle of what looked like a huge forest. Everywhere I looked there was green, with the occasional splash of color from wild flowers, but the thing that really caught my attention was the floating balls of glowing blue lazily floating throughout, illuminating the clearing. I could see more of them deeper in the forest, but they were largely obscured by the thick cover of trees.

 

The thump of shoes on the ground brought me back to reality as I spun around, raising my bat to defend myself. To my surprise, however, I found my hands empty. As I stared down at my hands in shock and frantically searched to see if I had dropped the bat, a voice rang out in the clearing.

 

“You’re here early, I see you are more reasonable than your father at least.” I looked up to see a group of probably the most strangely dressed people I’ve ever seen, and I go to school with teenage girls. There were six people total. Four were men, and two women, and all looked like they were going to a high-end Ren Fair.

 

The voice came from the man in front was dressed in silver-plated armor, leather breeches and boots, with a silver helm adorning his head. He was missing an eye, which looked quite painful as the skin around the eye patch he wore was red and irritated. I idly found myself wondering how he lost it, and if it hurt.  _ That’s a stupid question, of course it hurt. He lost an EYE. _

 

As I was contemplating the pros and cons of missing a body part,  _ you look like a BAMF but it seems  _ super _ inconvenient,  _ I realized three things. One: I was awkwardly staring at this guy’s face, two: he was talking, a lot, and three: I was unarmed and facing six strange people who probably had my mom and could control light _ maybe.  _ It’s unclear.

 

“-et her go.” I tuned in just in time to hear the end of his sentence. I was never known for my impulse control, so naturally, the first thing out of my mouth was,

 

“Sorry, what?” They all began to shift angrily and it was at this point I noticed the very sharp and very real looking weapons they all had equipped somewhere on their person. A spear for two of the really tall buff guys, a hammer of all things for another, a sword each for the two women, and a sword and a spear for the last dude.  _ Right, because one deadly weapon just wasn’t enough, Mr. Overcompensation. _

 

“I said,” the man ground out as if he was physically restraining himself from hitting me over the head with his, frankly unnecessarily huge, spear. Which, looking back, he probably was. “Once you have returned her to us unharmed, we will release your mother safely.” Ah, there it was again, the ransom:  _ Her. Her who,  _ I wanted to scream, but because I have some semblance of self-control, I didn’t. Although what I said probably wasn’t any better.

 

“So you  _ are  _ the ones who took my mom, well listen up because I have no idea who this “her” is or what the heck you’re talking about. Some weird crap has happened today and I just want my mom back, so if you give her back right now and promise to never come near us again, I won’t call the police on you guys.” Okay, so definitely not my most eloquent way of putting things, but it got the job done.

 

The group looked as if they were about to protest to my less than polite comments (they were kidnappers, so what did I care about being rude), but the man in front, who by now I’ve identified as the leader, held up a hand and they stayed silent.

 

“You claim to not know what we are talking about, yet you have been using the power of your heritage and managed to travel here through Frigga’s portal.” I’m guessing the woman to his left was Frigga by the way she straightened up and smiled when he said her name. She looked the most inviting out of all of them. “You must think us gullible, son of Loki, to come here and attempt such blatant trickery. It seems I was wrong, you are just foolish as your father.”

 

_ Father, what father, my dad died when I was a baby. _

 

“Wait, what? Son of who-what the heck are you going on about. I’ve never met my dad, he’s been dead for years. How do you know him?” I questioned in response, my confusion clear in my voice.

 

It was at this point that another one of the big buff dudes (or BBD as I had dubbed them), Mr. Overcompensation, stepped forward. “Do not play innocent fiend, give her back at once or I will strike you down where you stand. This is no game, we will go to war if there is even a single hair out of place on her head!”

 

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” I nearly went hoarse yelling, but I was sick of them talking about things I had no idea about. He was threatening me over something I didn’t understand, but knew I didn’t do, and I was just so done.

 

His face contorted in rage, and he drew one of his,  _ multiple - seriously you need that many weapons _ , swords and charged at me. The rest of the group shouted out, but by then it was too late. I raised my arms above my head to defend myself even though I knew it would do nothing,  _ I mean come on they’re swords _ , just as he brought the blade down upon me. 


	5. I Really Need to Stop Getting on People’s Bad Side

I am still alive, for those of you who were wondering; the dude with the really friggin unnecessary weapons didn’t actually manage to kill me, despite his best efforts. Now I know what you’re thinking: “Wow Malum, did you use your new, awesome powers and beat the crap out of everyone there like an actual boss?”. I would love to say that I did, but well, it didn’t happen exactly like that per say. . .

 

Okay, a moment of honesty: I was screaming like a little girl, although that’s an insult to little girls everywhere, and actually thought I was going to get chopped into little, tiny bits of Malum. Needless to say, however, that didn’t happen either. What really went on is a little harder to explain.

 

One moment there was a sword being swung at my head at like a gazillion miles an hour, _like honestly the dude was ripped and he sure knew how to use those muscles I couldn’t even see the blade - although to be fair I wasn’t exactly looking,_ _being more occupied with screaming for my life_ , and the next: nothing. Well, not exactly nothing, it was more like everything just kinda stopped. There was no noise, no wind, no movement; it seemed as though someone had pressed pause on the tragic comedy that is my life.

 

This phenomenon only lasted for a fraction of a second, however, and just as I was contemplating the sword point that rested less than an inch away from my neck, everything resumed. Only this time, it was like a huge force pushed them  _ back _ . I squeezed my eyes shut again, trying to block out the booming sound and fierce wind whipping around me. I felt something brush against my forehead, almost like a kiss or caress, but my thoughts were quickly diverted by the explosion I felt, rather than saw, going on around me.

 

After a few moments of eerie quiet in which I realized nothing was trying to kill me anymore, I slowly blinked open my eyes to find that everything around me had flown at least ten feet away, and Mr. Overcompensation,  _ I really need to come up with a better name for him _ , was flung back so hard he crashed through a tree and was knocked out cold. The ground around me formed a perfectly circular crater of overturned dirt and grass. The rest of the little Inquisition had gathered around their fallen comrade and were watching me in a sort of hushed awe and terror, which didn’t make sense because  _ I didn’t do that, did I? _

 

It didn’t feel anything at all like the last time something like this had happened. Then I had felt something rise up from inside me as I grew angrier and angrier with my situation. This time, I didn’t feel anything other than scared, and I hadn’t felt a power from within like before, nor did I have that energy high I had the first time. I was almost sure whatever had happened had happened as a result of an outside force, I just didn’t know what that outside force was, or even if they were friend or foe;  _ I really couldn’t handle another person trying to kill me.  _

 

Although, I figured if they had just saved my life, they probably didn’t want to kill me. Unless they just want to have the honor of doing it personally. Aaaand I’ve officially decided to lay off the Hollywood and get some help with my paranoia. That’s stupid, who would consider killing  _ me _ an honor, and who could I have possibly pissed off that much. Additionally, if they really wanted to kill me, with the power they just displayed they could have easily done so by now.

 

“So you protect him then? We knew that you’d be behind this heinous crime. Only you would dare to go so far. We demand that you return her at once, or there will be war!” I snapped back to the situation at hand, pushing aside thoughts of my mysterious savior,  _ or assassin - the little voice in the back of my head was quick to chime in _ , and looked up to see one of the women of the group had stepped forward to  _ accuse the air? _

 

   The rest of the group behind her nodded along with her chastisement of . . .  _ her imaginary friend _ . Okay, so that probably wasn’t true after what I’d just seen, but, well I didn’t really have any other ideas at the moment.

 

“Know this brother, if we do not have her back by sundown on the morrow, we will hunt you down, and your punishment will be twice as harsh as what you have just escaped from.” One of the burly men had stepped forward, adding onto the woman’s accusation of  _ something _ , I didn’t know what. I was getting so tired of not knowing things.

 

“You think you know pain. That you have experienced torture by our hands. When we are through with you, we will make you wish for something as sweet as pain!” Mr. Overcompensation had apparently woken up and was joining the growing group of people yelling at the air.  _ Of course he was _ , because there couldn’t be just one person in the entire group that acted even remotely normal.  


 

As far as I could tell, whoever,  _ or whatever _ , had saved me had known these people before. . . and been imprisoned by them too, apparently. I was growing more and more wary of the group, _ although this probably should have happened around the time they kidnapped my mom and tried to kill me _ , and I wasn’t sure that anyone who threatened someone like that, whether they deserved it or not, should in good conscience look that pleased at the idea of someone’s torture, especially if that someone just saved my life.

 

   While the group continued to threaten and shout obscene things at the air,  _ Mr. Overcompensation _ , I tried to slowly back away from them. Based on my previous luck, you can probably tell how that went.

 

   I stepped on a particularly loud twig when crawling backward -  _ I know, classic movie mistake, how cliche can I get _ \- and almost broke my neck in my haste to check if anyone noticed. I didn’t hear any shouts, or war cries, so I thought I might be fine, however, when I looked over one of them had seen me. The other woman had been standing a little ways away from the group and hadn’t yet joined in on the yelling, which was probably why she caught me.

We locked eyes for a moment before something in her seemed to soften, and she very pointedly looked away and back towards her group. The message was clear:  _ go, now _ . I decided it was probably best to comply, and practically ran the rest of the way to the cover of the trees. From there, I sprinted as fast as my legs could carry me away from the clearing, no direction in mind, just trying to escape.

 

By the time I stopped I had no idea where I was, not that I did in the first place, and it was almost pitch black. I could barely see my hands in front of me. Something in the corner of my vision caught my eye, however, and I turned to look. It took me a second to place what I was seeing, and when my brain finally caught up, it only added to my ever-growing confusion. What came out of my mouth next could probably have made a sailor blush.


	6. I Escape One Forest To Find Another

It was the same. Exact. Clearing.  _ The same one.  _

 

I had just sprinted for hours, my throat felt as if it were actually on fire,  _ which, at this point, wouldn’t even surprise me,  _ and I couldn’t feel my legs anymore.

 

How the hell was it possible that I was  _ in exactly the same place I started! _

 

By this point, I was ready to just say screw it and take my chances with the weirdos from before. Yes, they were trying to kill me, but a quick beheading sure seemed a lot less painful in the long run then starving to death or getting mauled by a bear in unfamiliar woods. 

 

The only problem with my ingenious plan, however, was that said weirdos were gone. The clearing was completely and totally empty. The glowing blue  _ things  _ gave enough light for me to see that much, but I was skeptical that they had actually abandoned the place.

 

_ They’re probably just waiting in the tree line for the right time to pounce. _

 

And with that happy thought, I walked confidently into the glade; they were already going to kill me and neither fighting nor running seemed to work, so what the heck, what did I have to lose? Well, aside from my life of course.

 

As I strode confidently forward, I made no effort to hide my approach. No sudden figures burst forth from the surrounding foliage, though, so I assumed I was safe for the moment.

 

Well, relatively safe, there was still the issue of finding a way home, or at least back to civilization, before I died of thirst or some wild animal got me. Stumped, I looked around. My gaze quickly settled on the portal that I had been  _ transported through _ to get there. 

 

Doing another quick search of the area turned up no alternatives, so I shrugged and started toward the portal, it was worth a try. I figured, if it got me there, it could take me home, right?

 

Well, it was possible, yes. But what I hadn’t factored into my calculations was that this portal was made by one of the kidnappers (the nice one, yes, but a kidnapper all the same) and was thus probably how they got to and from the forest as well. Thus, the portal was most likely not just connected to two locations, if I went back through it, there was no telling where I would end up.

 

Of course, I didn’t know or hadn’t thought of all this at the time, and so, I went through the portal.

 

The experience was just as unnerving as the last time: feeling like you’re being pulled and stretched in all directions and then suddenly finding yourself in a location you’re unfamiliar with.

 

That’s right, I didn’t land back at home, all safe and sound. No, where I landed instead was, you guessed it, another forest.  _ Yay _ !

 

Sometimes, I really hate my life.

 

Upon landing at my  _ new and improved _ location, I did what any self-respecting teenager would do. I cussed. A lot. Just a good, general cussing out of (including, but not limited to:) my life, the universe, the kidnappers who took my mom, whoever they were looking for, my life, the actual criminal who had done what I was being accused of, and my life.

 

Surveying my surroundings, I found that,  _ surprise surprise _ , not much had changed between one forest and the next. The only big difference was, now, it seemed to be the middle of the day.  _ Maybe I changed time-zones or something?  _

 

Anyway, the other major change where I was stranded was that I could see what looked like an old-fashioned village (like the ones that you see in history textbooks from Medieval times) a few miles to the south of where I stood.

 

It seemed like a good of a place as any to try to sort out my predicament. Maybe some of the locals could tell me where I was or lend me their phone or something.  _ Although, who I was going to call I had no idea. It was always just me and my mom, and now she was gone. I was on my own. _

 

Deciding upon my course, I began my trek down to where the houses stood, hoping against all hope the people there were normal.  _ Who was I kidding, it was a literal  _ village,  _ anyone who lived there was  _ not  _ going to be normal. _

 

It took me a little over three hours to complete the journey; I was tired and worn out from all the running I had done earlier and had to stop frequently to catch my breath now that all the adrenaline had worn off.

 

Stopping at the edge of the tree line, trying to be more cautious after the events of the day, I peered through the flora to make sure the people I was about to approach were, at the very least, not murderers.

 

I didn’t have quite as much luck as I was hoping for. As I watched, many people came and went through the houses and markets, most, if not all, carrying some sort of weapon on their person. They were all also dressed in the same style as the kidnappers I had encountered earlier. The odds of me getting tangled up in some weird magic cult seemed to be about one thousand percent.

 

Unfortunately, while pretty much correct, that wasn’t exactly the full scope of what was happening. The truth was much more complicated and significantly harder to deal with.

As I stood there contemplating whether or not to introduce myself and see if they could help in any way, even just by telling me where I was, I was spotted. A woman who had just exited one of the many archaic style dwellings had been studying the flowers a little to my left, probably weighing to pros and cons of coming over to pick some, and had noticed me among the plants.  _ I didn’t exactly blend in.  _

 

The choice now taken from me as her cry of alarm quickly notified the others of my presence, I tried to take charge of the situation and quickly exited the bushes with my hands in the air. 

 

I may not have been all that experienced in dealing with warriors and the such, but even I knew that when you’re considered a threat by people with very pointy weapons, it’s best to do what you can to diffuse that idea.

 

“Hi, there! I don’t suppose any of you could tell me where I am?”


End file.
